As a Way of Expressing

Tonight I read the blog of a girl a year or two younger than me who had experienced more than one miscarriage. It reminded me of a blog of a girl my age who wrote about her divorce. For some reason, I feel like these girls are too young to experience that kind of pain. That even though I feel like I've had a taste or two of real life and thus pain, they shouldn't have to. (And who am I kidding- I used the word taste on purpose. I wouldn't pretend to really understand the kind of pain either of these girls described, though I think once a heart has been broken, you have a sort of kinship with mankind.)

Either way, it got me thinking about blogging in general, and why we often post our more personal feelings for the world to see. Sometimes I feel like writing things on here that I don't feel like saying. Somehow, though the audience is much larger and much less intimate, the information can be closer to home. Why is that? Among other reasons, I think it is because we need somewhere to express ourselves. Journals aren't enough- we want someone to see, someone to understand, and someone to connect with. We divulge in hopes of anyone and yet no one in particular to validate us.

Pain is such an interesting factor. It looks different on everyone. According to recent sources I am the sort who implodes when things get to be too much. I suppose it's true. I experience some sort of internal destruction, and then it eeps out with me letting someone have it, thinking I'm releasing what has been suppressed towards this person for too long. Only later do I realize that it actually had little to do with them, that I could have continued enduring whatever was bothering me, and the fire was really fueled by other pains.

And pain cuts deep in its effects. It always leaves its mark, affecting the rest of future experience. But along with its cutting is also its deepening. I don't like my heart breaking experiences, and I don't often think of them or bring them up in great detail. However, I am grateful for the depth of perspective they have afforded me, and for the link I feel to those around me because I too have been disappointed.

And so I write this blog. Not to any one in particular, but just to contribute my thoughts in the blogging world. Pain in my mind always conjures the image of a sunrise. Whatever happened the day before, the sun will rise again on a new day. Nothing bad has happened yet, and yesterday is, well, yesterday.

Keep it Classy

The further along in my major I get, the smaller my classes become. The smaller my classes become, the more talkative and involved I am (which, considering how much I like to talk regardless of class size, means that I comment about every 5 minutes). The class I had yesterday is such a class. There are roughly 30 students, and I've had the professor before. Needless to say, I am talking all. the. time. 

So yesterday we were talking about the culture industry as critiqued by Theodore Adorno. (I highly recommend researching it- it is fascinating.) The gist of the "culture industry" is that producers of media and other mass consumption goods are pacifying and influencing us in anyway that will make money, hence the emphasis on loose morals and lenient attitudes. After about an hour or so of discussing this and its horrible effects (many consider the culture industry a large factor leading up to the Holocaust, for one), my professor gets on YouTube to show us just a fun example of a pop song. It was Sam Tsui covering King of Anything by Sara Bareilles. What a fun, clean, appropriate song to show us how ideas permeate. Perhaps in an effort to please the class, he asked if we'd like to watch another.

I apparently couldn't help myself and said, "Ooh! I love this guy- we should watch his Summer 2011 medley! It's SOOOO good!"

Professor, "Is it appropriate?"

Me, "Well, I think so- yeah, I'm pretty sure!"

Now, keep in mind how we had been discussing the morally degrading effects of media, and listen to these songs you used to love. 

After about 5 seconds, I was blushing and gasped, "Oh no! I'm SO sorry!" The class was in uproar- most probably, like me, shocked at how inappropriate and persuasive popular music is, and also laughing at our professor's shock. He paused it and I apologized a few times and said we didn't have to finish it. The funny part? The rest of the class was like, "No!! We like it- it's good!" So my professor continued the video, and that, my friends, is the culture industry, right here at our very own BYU.

Story of My Life

I went to the temple today, and I had intended to do sealings. (I've been doing this thing lately where I rotate through the ordinances) (I also figured out how to not faint doing sealings, so don't worry- marriage is still a go someday) However. a good looking guy came in about the same time as me, and I figured he would most likely do a session. I decided I could squeeze in the time, and figured why not?

I was right about him doing a session. What I was not right about was his availability. I had forgotten that Provo is never safe, and had totally missed his bright shiny wedding ring. And now there I was, already set to do a session for the next two hours, even though I had only planned to be there for one hour. Now I was barely going to make it on time for my class later, and the dude was married. Sacrificing for naught.

Watch out for this sucker. 

Life isn't Fair

Fairly often, I come to this pleasant realization. Life isn't fair. Before you think this is going to be one of my emo posts, keep reading.

I have often felt that a belief and trust in God allows for all sorts of benefits. First of all, when we trust in Him, He can help us make decisions. I usually feel uninformed when it comes to making important choices. Do I know all of the background I should? How could I know how this will pan out? Will it pan out? Like getting married. Granted, I'm not even dating someone, but sometimes I think about making that kind of decision and almost have a panic attack. Then I remember that we can ask God, that He knows me better than I know myself, and when I put myself in the right place, He can help me to know the otherwise impossible.

Next, my life has rather gracefully fallen into place, starting most consciously with my mission. I hadn't eliminated the possibility, but I wasn't going for it either. A kind God helped me see that it would be a good option, and now I really can't imagine not having served. It has come to define nearly every facet of my life for the better.

Most recently, career opportunities have started to open up. This has been a mild source of anxiety for me for a while. When I made the choice to major in what I could be passionate about, I knew I was kind of snipping the ties to a profitable career path. But even as I type that it seems so ill-fitting to think I ever thought I belonged in a lucrative career simply for the purpose of affluence. Nope- I've come to decide that's my husband's job if I ever meet him! :) The way I see it, I will either be only providing for myself, or I will have my income combined with another's to provide for a family. And so- I am doing what I really want to do- humanitarian aid. This has been a bit of a step in the dark for me, but I love learning about it so much and really want to be an active part of helping others, so I'm just moving forward, hoping and praying it comes together. Events from the past week, whether they come to fruition or not, have helped me to know that God, so generously, has a hand in it. That He will help me. Uninformed, not necessarily deserving, and likely under-qualified as I am, I take comfort in knowing that I have a bit of assistance.

So, it's not fair. But, it is great, and I always accept help. :)

 

Whoever said you can't run from your problems...

... simply didn't have the right shoes. 

I know what you're thinking. "Those shoes kick a... lot of things." ;) And you're right. They do. These minimal heel Brooks champions were my birthday present from my parents this year. I got them Saturday and was pretty excited to try them out. Today ended up being one of those days where you just need a long run. Well, more like yesterday was, but it spilled over into this morning, and basically I woke up ready to test out these shoes and just run. After 6.5 miles, I felt better about life and also have a solid crush on my shoes. Who wouldn't feel like a baller wearing those? Look good, run good.

Along the same lines, my mom and I were talking about the therapeutic qualities of running. I often feel like I can't control everything in life that I'd like to. Or even when it comes to things I can control, I often make mistakes and they don't go as I intended. Allow me to tell you, nothing fuels a run like frustration or anxiety. Today I just kept going, running away from things that I don't like. Apparently there was enough to propel me for 3 miles. Not too bad, really. By the time I reached my destination, I felt like I had conquered something, and because I had conquered that, I could conquer the things I had originally run from. And so, the equidistant return was more of an achievement or even an affirmation of my ability to overcome. I came home feeling empowered, and also confident. Thanks Brooks, I love you. And I know you love me too.

Other things that I love include Banana Republic, Costco, and my new car, Legolas.

I didn't know I needed this dress until I saw it, and then immediately knew there was no leaving BR without it. 

The product of my accident over Christmas Break. Meet Legolas- mostly awesome and just a little bit girly. I love him. 

Target Audience

In a lot of classes I've taken, we talk about a "target audience." The people whose attention you are assuming you'll capture and retain. The people who will care about what you're trying to share. Common interests, if you will. Basically- the ones you would like to win over.

Tell me why, my whole life, I haven't been able to quite get this "target audience" right when it comes to stunning people with my personality or dashing good looks. Allow me to proceed with examples.

I spend all day on a campus full of young adult men. Most of my coworkers are young adult men. Many of my friends are, you guessed it, young adult men. This, ladies and gentleman, is my target audience hopeful.

However, it is only when I go to the Reading Office at the MTC, employed by senior couples, that a woman stops mid answering-my-relevant-question to tell me that I should go out with her son, and that my appearance would really do a lot for their gene pool. Points for being clever, old woman, but no points for your son that never called.

Or perhaps when I went to the TRC, another office at the MTC employed by senior couples, that an elderly man shakes my hand and starts asking me questions about myself. Never letting go of my hand, he steps closer, tells me I am beautiful, and asks for my number so that his grandson can go out with me in his place.

How about the most recent? I am in the temple, asking a senior sister a few questions that are related to the situation at hand. Instead of answering, she comments on my great complexion. I say thank you, and again ask the original question. Instead of answering, she reached out and touched my face and hair, commented again on my coloring, and really never responded to the beginning inquiry.

I do appreciated the compliments, really. I mean, who doesn't like it when someone says nice things? But I'm starting to feel like I'm writing an arctic ice climbing article for a knitting magazine. I need to come at this from another angle so that I can address the audience I'm intending to sway- that is, the young adult male. It would be super great if they would stop mid-sentence and tell me I was breath taking.

Sweet dreams are made of these.

Flighting

Flirt fighting -> flighting.

The age old way to get someone's attention. It begins in elementary school, when the boy steals your pencil case.  You get so mad and threaten "to tell". But secretly, you love that he even noticed your pencil case.

It progresses. In middle school, you tease each other about test scores or make fun of each other at track practice. Same thing. Pretending you hate each other, but caring enough to still talk to them or get their notice.

High school the game continues, but it's slightly more intelligent. A battle of wits, a dis on the kind of music they like, or even commenting on their clothes. Still flighting.

And onto college. Here is where we digress. Perhaps because we've had all this experience with flighting, we're ok at any level. Back to stealing things. Back to teasing each other because we have nothing else to say. Flight on, young adults, flight on.